


Look at yourself.

by IlCestinoSegreto



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gavin still doesn't like androids, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, RK900 probably doesn't like humans either, Self-Indulgent, Sexual Content, they still do the do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 10:09:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15683277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IlCestinoSegreto/pseuds/IlCestinoSegreto
Summary: An extremely, extremely self indulgent Reed900- And what are you trying to prove? That you're better than me? Are you sure about that? - a drowsy provocation escaped from his lips and he never, ever dared to move his eyes from the face of the android on top of him. There was something ridicolously sexy about the way he looked, his messy hair, his half-lidded eyes and his mouth shut in the attempt not to moan despite it clearly being his decision to keep his receptors on and functioning.





	Look at yourself.

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Guardati.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15255333) by [IlCestinoSegreto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IlCestinoSegreto/pseuds/IlCestinoSegreto). 



> I've written this one a while ago on a sleepless night just when i was starting to drown in Reed900 hell.  
> Many many many thanks to chickenhero@tumblr that helped me and translated this work from Italian to English.

\- Look at yourself. Look at what you've become, you piece of plastic. -

Gavin was aware of the fact that he wasn't perfectly sober in that moment. He knew that one drink too many had the power to make him heavier as if two rocks were tied to his ankles; he knew that his reactions got slower, and talking got harder.

But he also knew that these moments on the line between soberness and drunkenness were the worst of them all. Whereas his body wasn't as responsive as he would have liked to, his mind worked at double the speed: the brakes he would have put otherwise had crumbled under the alcohol, and his cruel thoughts wandered towards everything he wanted to ignore.

Sure, it would have been damn hard to ignore the existence of the android straddling him. That _900_ had a natural lumbering presence.

As if pretending that he could stand the plastic prick day by day wasn't hard enough, fate was a bitch and decided to put the cherry on top of the pile of shit that was his life when it became clear to him that the android harbored feelings for him that would have been intricate and complex even to a human evaluation.

When he said “feelings” he didn't mean anything romantic either. The robot-thing appeared composed and law-abiding at first, but Gavin had soon realized that the hatred he felt for the mechanical race was fully reciprocated behind those icy eyes that stared at him with disapproval whenever Gavin called him names or didn't let him get involved at work.

 _Hold on_ , no, it wasn't disapproval that filled his fake, simulated expression that still somehow managed to hit him vividly like a smack in the face: it was a sentiment of pity, superiority even. It came from an individual made of iron and plastic that had secretly decided that he was better than the species that had created him and gave him the right to exist.

There was nothing about that thing that didn't ceaselessly get on his last nerves. He despised him when he would passive-aggressively comment on his actions inside and outside the workplace, he despised him when he would breathe down his neck and drag him home before the night could end in well-deserved oblivion for one fucking time.

Was he turning into a limp-dick-Anderson with that plastic toyboy always ready to spring him to life?

No. This was a thousand times worse than what that other asshole was going through— because Gavin couldn't even bring himself to imagine Connor coming up with retorts when no one could hear him, or using his insults to coldly prove that he was better than him.

He couldn't even think about that goody-goody at all right now because his personal son of a bitch was taking over his perceptions so fiercely that he was starting to forget the faces of anyone who wasn't involved in their tête-à-tête.

“Taking over” alright, because he was having no trouble at all demonstrating that he was nothing but a glorified fleshlight, riding him like a madman for all the wrong reasons. Aside from the inconsistent way he was moving on his dick which was clearly a plan designed by his fucking brain to torture him as much as possible, Gavin saw something different in his expression that night, something that made his stomach churn and sent jolts of adrenaline in his body along with those of pleasure (and if he could, fuck, he would have preferred not to feel them at all).

If only he were less shitfaced he wouldn't have waited a second to grab his hips and switch positions to fuck him into the mattress 'til his circuits fried.

But here he was, confined into an unjust prison. Meanwhile the most he could do was lift one hand up and greedily grab his ass.

\- And what are you trying to prove? That you're better than me? Are you sure about that? - a drowsy provocation escaped from his lips and he never, ever dared to move his eyes from the face of the android on top of him. There was something ridicolously sexy about the way he looked, his messy hair, his half-lidded eyes and his mouth shut in the attempt not to moan despite it clearly being his decision to keep his _receptors_ on and functioning.

He couldn't even remember why he was digging his heels so much that evening. He couldn't even remember the certain origins of their argument, or the causes of his revenge: Gavin paid so little attention to the words he used in his confrontations that nothing he said seemed all that different from the usual so much so that he would react by pushing his onto the mattress and mounting him like an animal in heat. But he had no interest in understanding it, and it was better if the android thought he was doing him wrong – if this is how things had to go then Gavin would not stop using his tight, hot, artificial hole because in his mind corrupted by a perverse pleasure the idea of keeping using him like a dirty object just fueled his fire.

His other hand rose to grab onto his perfect little ass, so firm under his fingers that he seriously considered if he wasn't in fact plunging his dick into a real person. However, _900_ was a machine and he would have treated him accordingly: he ignored any process he was putting together behind those glass eyes, and when he stopped, probably in an attempt to keep him on his toes, it was Gavin who took the lead.

His grip got stronger, nails and fingertips that would have inevitably left a trace of their passage if only that skin was real. Gavin pushed him down in one single thrust, impaling him again and again on his erection still unsatisfied: he heard him force one guttural moan out and his insides thightening hungrily around his dick as if to invite him to come as soon as possible, mark the android as his, taint him as his possession.

It didn't take him long: their hips collided furiously and noisily, and in that union that was in no way romantic, making no effort whatsoever for the android to share his pleasure, Gavin came inside him with an intense, fuzzing orgasm.

As far as he was concerned the night could have ended there. When the corners of his sight stopped whitening and blurring he let him go, brining his hands behind his head and staring at him with a cocky smile.

– You can get off my dick now. – he hissed, tried to catch his breath – Didn't you get what you wanted? Move, I have to sleep. -

RK900 did nothing. He remained on him stubbornly, sadistic even in the way it affected his exhausted cock.  Well, no, he _did_ do something: he reached forward, and Gavin felt his face seized in a grip that did not allow him to divert his sight.

– Look at yourself. – a cold voice wormed its way into the folds of his brain, having him shiver (with anger? Or something else?) from deep inside of him  – Panting and vulnerable. Look at what this piece of plastic made you become. –

 


End file.
